Straight but I love it-Imagine you're Dorie.
Meeting Dorie
by Amy Brett
Certainly she was beautiful. Statuesque. Enough leg to wrap around any
man. She had a lithe, straight form made all the taller and more
interesting by the high, white heels below the short skirt of the
high-waisted dress.
Marty actually saw her before they got to the bar. He and Phil were on a
bus taking them from work to their neighborhood when the red convertible
she was driving pulled up next to it. He looked out the window at the small
car and saw her long legs, uncovered beneath the steering wheel.
And she, obviously, saw him, too. As if she felt his longing look at her
stockinged legs, she looked directly at him and smiled sweetly. She made no
move to cover her legs as the light changed and the car and bus moved along
side by side.
The breeze from the open roof of the car played with the hem of her dress
and blew her long, dark hair out behind her head. Marty was truly unhappy
the bus ride was finished as it made the stop near his apartment. His mood
returned as he saw the convertible pull in at the Shasta, the neighborhood
bar his thoughts had been headed toward before he'd seen her.
He nudged Phil and succinctly told him what he had seen as they walked
across the street to the bar, both now watching the convertible that was
sideways to them now with the door open.
Marty's breath caught as he saw one of those long legs dangling clear of
the car door as she applied a quick layer of lipstick with the aid of the
car mirror. She replaced her lipstick in a small purse and stepped clear of
the car, turning her legs, the skirt still high on them, directly toward
them.
"Oh, God," Phil mumbled softly.
"Yeah," Marty replied as softly. "Seen anything like that lately?" He
didn't need an answer.
As she stood and pulled the skirt downward from where it had hiked up under
her breasts slightly, partially covering those long legs again, she looked
at Marty and smiled again. She didn't mind their attention. She turned and
led them toward the door of the little bar by a few steps.
Marty watched her hips sway within the thin blue material of the dress as
she walked, slower than he and Phil would have normally had they not wanted
to maintain their present position. Marty wondered if she was a model. She
had the right shape and look.
They arrived at the door together and Phil quickly reached around her to
open the door.
The inside of the Shasta was cool and dark, as the men knew it would be,
the air from the conditioners lifting her hair from her shoulders again and
pushing the thin dress into the shape of her front and lifting the back of
the skirt behind. She didn't take notice but took a quick, surprised breath
that raised her small but adequate chest. The two men nearly ran her over
as she stopped to regain her sight in the darkness as the door pushed into
them from behind.
The Shasta was far more interesting inside than it looked, from outside, it
should be. The large bar was inside the door separated from the wall by
only enough room for a row of two person tables and enough room to
walk. Blue light colored the backbar and washed from the fronts of double
steps that led to the larger tables beyond the dance floor. A short railing
prevented the tables and the customers from falling onto the dance floor
from above. A mellow brushed drum, a quiet guitar and a piano sat before
the room, setting an unwinding, late afternoon mood.
Knowing where to look, Marty saw that only two of the several tables were
full along with one of the two person tables and two or three of the stools
at the bar.
"Could I help you find a seat," he said to the girl.
"Oh, yes. Would you?" she said in a voice deeper and much softer than he
had expected. He smiled in the darkness. "I'd love to," he said. "Would you
sit with Phil and I?"
"Yes," she said simply with a smile that reflected the blue lights almost
like black light did.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Oh, anything. With a little cream in it." He turned to Phil and asked if
he'd get them all ordered up and watched him turn to Minnie, the barmaid,
and pass on the word.
Marty gently touched the elbow of the long sleeved dress to indicate the
direction and felt a slight resistance. "Let me lead the way. You'll get
your night sight in a few minutes."
"Thanks," she said with that smile still in her voice. He felt her close
behind him as he walked across the corner of the dance floor to the steps,
made sure she saw them, and picked a table overlooking the floor where he
held a chair for her at the railing. He took the adjoining chair.
It was silent for a moment as they arranged themselves, she got out a
cigarette and he lit it for her.
She put her hand on the back of his sensuously as he did it and he found
himself struggling to keep from dropping the lighter. She inhaled the smoke
deeply and blew out a long stream of smoke, obviously relishing it, across
the dance floor.
"I saw you looking at my legs," she said, still looking at the dance
floor. The comment blew his composure as surely as she had blown the smoke
across the room. "Oh, I don't mind. I'm flattered."
Tilting her head slightly, hiding her smiling eyes in the dim light and the
depths of her hair, she looked at him. "Did you like what you saw?" He was
still thrown by her directness.
"Yes," he finally sputtered. "Very much. You have beautiful legs."
"Thank you," she said taking another puff of the cigarette. "A girl needs a
little encouragement."
"Consider yourself considerably encouraged then," he found himself saying
nervously.
"Very well," she said and lay the cigarette in the ashtray and
methodically, telegraphing every movement, lifted the skirt with both hands
and lay it back down on her crossed legs at nearly the level it had been in
the car. Marty knew his eyes were nearly bugged out of his head as they
followed the movement of her hands until they rested on her once again
exposed thighs. He knew she was staring at him but couldn't seem to lift
his gaze from where it rested.
"Ah, an Amaretto Cream and two Budweiser drafts," he heard Phil's voice
saying over his shoulder as the sound of the drinks hitting the table came
to him. His eyes flickered over her shrouded, smiling face as he turned to
Phil.
"Thanks, Phil," he said distractedly. "Next round's mine."
"My name's Phil."
"Dorie," she said then.
"Ah, yeah. And I'm Marty."
"Here's looking at me," she said as she tossed her hair back from her face
and laughed before taking a solid gulp of the drink.
"I'll drink to that," Phil said loudly before Marty could respond. He found
himself staring now at her face as she talked to Phil, the beautiful
profile alluring. Still, her eyes returned to him again and again even
while her words were directed at Phil.
"Would you like to dance?" he heard Phil ask. She looked at Marty and her
eyebrows arched before she said "Yes, I'd love to."
He watched them negotiate the steps and saw her swirl into his arms. With
her heels on, she was nearly as tall as Phil, the two of them talking
almost at eye level. Marty knew Phil was an inch taller than he and
wondered how they would look dancing together. They finished one dance and
swirled into another. Marty noticed his beer and took a large gulp, looked
at the dance floor and gulped again. They danced very close together.
The dance ended and he concentrated on his beer while they returned to the
table, Phil helped her with her chair and sat down himself. Marty looked at
her and saw her smile as she pulled the skirt back to its earlier
position. They finished their drinks and ordered a second while she smoked
and she and Phil talked.
"Well, I'd better get home. I want to get some dinner on and watch the news
then, shock of shocks, I have a date tonight," Phil said.
"Nice to have met you, Phil," she said as he rose to fulfill his words.
Marty felt uncomfortable. He could feel her eyes on him as he fumbled with
his beer, ordered another round and fumbled with another.
"Marty?" she said softly. "I'd like to dance with you, too."
"Of course," he said looking back at her for the first time in a long
time. He had known that her beautiful legs would be there, drawing his
eyes, and it made him uncomfortable. As he returned his attention to her,
he was drawn to that lengthy expanse of skin near him. Almost physically,
he had to restrain his hand from touching, caressing.
"Just a second," she said and leaned down and undid the strap of her
shoe. He saw that she left that foot on tiptoe as she undid the other strap
and pulled the other foot from the shoe.
He saw the white of her bra beneath the top of the dress as she bent over
as well. She sat back then, looking at him strangely.
"Would you like me to hold my skirt up while we dance so you don't miss
anything." Again there was a smile in her voice but he was considerably
shaken by her statement.
"No, no," was all he could manage.
She stood then and offered her hand. He had forgotten the dance for a
moment. What was wrong with him? He had to straighten up. He stood,
accepted her hand and allowed her to lead the way to the dance floor.
It was a fast tempo dance and his eyes locked to her body as it rocked to
the heavy beat of the music before him. He had trouble moving but stared at
her beautiful, smiling face surrounded by the mounds of hair, at her small
arms and chest, at her body as it moved within the loose dress, at the
movement of her feet.
She grabbed his hand and smiled at him as the dance ended, planting herself
on the spot. A slower piece started and he turned to accept her shape
against his body, his arm going around her back and feeling the thin
material between it and her hot skin. Her hand squeezed his shoulder and,
after only a few steps, her other arm, extended ahead of them, moved behind
her back, taking his other arm around her. She leaned into him heavily.
He felt his hardness pressing into her stomach and knew that she could feel
it as well. She turned her head and breathed heavily on his neck as they
moved together rhythmically. As he felt her long leg between his, he also
noticed a difference in her step. She lifted herself on her feet slightly
with each movement, lowering again before the following step. Her body
rubbed against him in all directions.
He found himself boldly nuzzling her neck as she kissed his. Her skin, her
hair smelled so wonderfully feminine. He lifted his head and felt her do
the same, their eyes meeting. He allowed his mouth to lower and cover hers,
his arms pulling her still harder against him.
Another song started and they danced again, exchanging long kisses, looks
into each others eyes and the wonderful closeness of their bodies.
Her breath came ever heavier against his neck sending chills through his
body and, he knew, quickening his own breathing as well.
They sat down again and he quickly grabbed his beer to drain it in a long
draught. When he looked at her again, he saw her staring at him again from
beneath her dark hair, the smile still on her face. He had never been
seduced before. It was wonderful but a little frightening. Then she looked
at her lap.
Methodically, she inched the hem upward as he watched until it again rested
only a fraction of an inch below the conjunction of those wonderful
limbs. There was a difference this time in that, instead of crossing them,
she left both feet firmly on the floor, her legs slightly spread.
In a slow movement, her leg straightened at the knee, her foot sliding into
his pants leg. He felt her toes moving his sock, moving upward until he
could feel the nylon against his bare leg, her toes moving.
His hand, almost out of his control, dropped to her knee. It felt as
wonderful as he thought it would; strong but soft, the slick nylon stocking
beckoning his hand further.
She ended the movement of her foot on his leg and slid the chair close to
his then. His hand was forced upward by her movement, ending on her
thigh. He massaged it softly. Her hands were still on the hem of the dress,
to the sides, as he heard her low moan.
"Yes. Marty. Touch my legs. Make them tingle to your touch." Her eyes
closed and her mouth opened to allow the greater amounts of air in. Her
head tilted back some, freeing her beatific face to the light. "Feel me,
Marty. Feel me. I'm so hot. Feel how wet my panties are."
His hand shook as it inched upward until he felt the taut material of the
hem. She let loose of one side then and put her hand on the back of his,
pulling it upward. He felt the top of the stocking high on her thigh and
couldn't keep from allowing his hand to touch the soft naked skin of the
front of her hip, following the hollow to her stomach and down the other
long leg to the stocking there, across the silky feeling tiny panty straps.
"Don't tease me, Marty. I want your hand...now." He felt the insistence of
her hand on the back of his now, guiding his hand between her legs.
He allowed it to move toward the center, but higher, on her stomach. He
heard her frustrated moan and felt a more insistent pressure on his hand,
downward.
His hand, low on her stomach, brushed across the material of her small
panties and downward until he felt the moist heat of them under his hand.
He let his hand be led back and forth across the panties several times; up
and down between the softness of her thighs.
She abruptly gave him back his hand then and excused herself from the
table.
His mind and heart fluttering, he watched her stand, push the chair back
and walk across the room toward the restrooms near the doorway. Below the
short skirt he watched swaying with her steps, he noticed her stockinged
feet.
She was stopped by a burly barstool patron on the way by and, as Marty
tried to decide what to do, torn between rushing to her aid and quietly
skulking into a dark corner, saw her smilingly step past him and back into
the darkness that enclosed the restrooms. The man, he saw, managed to grab
a none too discrete feel of her breasts in the process. He couldn't help
feeling shame for his own inactivity mixed with envy of the man's action.
He stared into the darkness, ready now to overcome his earlier inertia,
waiting for her return. When, a few moments later, she reappeared, she
moved so purposefully past the man at the bar that he had no opportunity
for more than a statement out of Marty's hearing as she retreated from him.
She smiled as she neared the table and held out her hand to lift him from
his seat. Without touching it, he rose. As he stood, she moved very close
to him, putting something in each of his jacket pockets. She leaned against
him as he looked at the contents of each; her bra in the right pocket, her
panties in the left.
"Dance with me," she said, leaving him no option as she turned and grabbed
his hand as she moved toward the dance floor.
As she turned to him, he saw the outlines of her hard nipples inside the
thin dress material.
She held her leading arm high in the conventional dance posture as he
allowed himself to be pulled toward her but, after a few steps of the slow
dance, bent her elbow and brought both their hands in between their bodies.
She turned and loosed her hand from his, putting hers on the back of his
then and pressing his palm into the soft shape of her breast.
"Do you like it?"
"Of course. Yes," he said nervously. "It's...soft and...nice."
"Is it too small?"
"No. It's perfect." And it was. Soft and, like the rest of her lithe body,
matched to her size and, somehow, her personality. His hand moved on the
nearly naked breast until, as he watched her face, he saw her eyes close
and mouth open slightly.
"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes. That feels so wonderful."
They danced the song in that position, his hand massaging her as her hand
petted the back of it. He saw people watching them, knowing what he was
doing. It embarrassed him but he couldn't stop.
She allowed his hand to drop from her as the dance ended but she held him
from returning to the table. He forced her arm back behind her back with
his again as the next song started.
Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "People are watching us. Aren't you
embarrassed?"
"No," she said with a note of irony. "Do you see any who look like they
wouldn't trade with either of us if they could?"
He couldn't help but smile. There wasn't one of them who weren't almost
slobbering. The men were the most obvious in their desires but the women,
too, looked like they would trade as they stared. None frowned or looked
scandalized. He pulled her tight to him to show his agreement with her
statement.
"Marty. Feel my bottom now," she said. He hesitated. "Feel that there's
only that silky layer of material between your hand and my naked skin."
He felt his hands, almost on their own, moving down her back caressingly
until they touched the upward arch below the small of her back.
He could, indeed, feel the slippery slide of the thin layer of material
over her skin. He squeezed the globe of muscle solidly and felt her pelvis
rotate outward into his palm and then back and firmly into his leg between
hers.
Rhythmically, he massaged and felt her answering movements until, just as
the song ended, her legs clenched and the muscles of her buttocks
tightened. Only he was privy to the tiny moan that she stifled by burying
her face in his neck. Her hand squeezed his shoulder almost painfully.
As her body relaxed, he released her and led her back to the table.
She moved her chair very close to his and held his arm with both her
hands. It left his hand, again, on her thigh. He looked into her sparkling
eyes then and saw the formulation of an idea.
Her hand told him of her idea. Quickly, as she smiled, it unbuttoned the
three buttons of the top of her dress which opened it to the elastic of the
waistband that encircled her just below her breasts. The material was full
and fell away from her some, allowing him a shaded but clear view of her
breast.
"I wish you could kiss it," she said huskily. "I want you to kiss it."
"Here?" he said, still seeing people watching them over her shoulder.
"Yes. I want you to."
"I can't. You'd be practically naked for me to do that." She seemed to
think about that with a frown and decided to pass over it.
"Then touch it," she said. "Touch my bare skin. Pinch the nipple."
He decided it was a compromise and leaned to kiss her mouth. As her arm
came up to his neck, his hand slid into the front of the opened dress and
cupped her breast.
Brushing it, he felt the hard nipple between his fingers, moved to the tips
of his fingers and captured between them.
He squeezed gently and felt, as well as heard, her moan inside his covering
mouth.
She arched her back into his hand and shifted her hand on his neck, pulling
him tighter to her.
He released it then, evoking a sigh, and repeated the performance with the
other breast, the other nipple, until she again moaned into his mouth.
He released it as well and broke off the kiss. She sighed contentedly and
slumped back in the chair with her hands in her lap. She smiled back at him
and he saw another idea hatching.
"Now I want you to make me come," she said and saw his apparent lack of
understanding. He was afraid, actually, that he knew exactly what she meant
and, looking past her again, still saw other people watching them -- from
tables nearby, from the dance floor, even from the bar. Everyone seemed
surprised and, perhaps, mildly shocked, but no one seemed ready to leave.
"How?"
"I'm going to sit just like this." He saw that she still slumped in the
chair but now her legs were slightly spread as well.
"I'm going to pull my skirt up again and I want you to put your finger in
me. Play with my clit. Make me come. Right here. Magnificently."
"You'll be exposed to the whole room!"
"Yes. Do it! Now!" He watched then as she grabbed the hem of the dress
again and began inching it upward, looking into his eyes all the while. He
saw her smile as he drew in his breath when he saw it.
He expected to see the hair there but didn't. He saw the round hardness of
her mound and then the softness of her lips. She was shaved. Again his
breath was forced inward. The heat of her radiated past his hand as it
descended onto her skin.
He saw those magnificently long limbs beneath the darkening table. But the
whiter, naked skin was not so protected from the small light above the
table.
He watched her legs spread still wider, the lips open to view, as his hand
moved down further until it contacted the wet heat of her.
She moaned loudly as his finger found the hole there, slipped in and, again
at her insistence, came back out to caress the hard bud above it, coated
with her own lubrication.
Her eyes closed then and her legs spread straight to her sides, lifting
until her feet contacted the underside of the table.
Her hands came down to squeeze the inside of her thighs as he slipped the
finger back and forth between her opened hole and the firm bud of her,
eliciting a moan and a corresponding thrust of her pelvis.
A louder moan escaped her open mouth and her body convulsed.
Her hand wildly clasped his arm and the movement of her midsection became
uncontrolled.
"Oh, God, yes," she said loudly as she clenched her eyes tightly, arched
her back and froze into position against his still moving finger.
"Ah. Ah. Ah. Yes."
She panted. More softly.
"Oh, yes. Yes."
"Yes. Fuck me with your finger!"
"Ahhhhh! Oh, yessssss!"
Her voice was loud in its stage whisper as her body convulsed.
Her movements slowed even as her hands grabbed his and forced him to stop
his movements.
Her body relaxed though it quivered.
Suddenly, Marty realized the music had stopped and looked past her body. He
saw virtually everyone in the room frozen as if in a still life picture,
mouths open, eyes staring.
He only grinned at them as he saw the beautiful, satisfied look on her
face.
"Oh, god, Marty," she sighed. "That was wonderful."
He only stared at her beautiful face, her eyes closed and mouth still
gasping slightly for air.
"Marty," she said softly. "I'll give you a ride home ..."
Her eyes opened almost sleepily and slowly focussed on him, her smile
spreading across that beautiful face.
"... after I fuck you."